


all that you mean to me

by Janina



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dany is mentioned, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Lord and Lady of Winterfell, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:36:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon has to go to Kings Landing to see the Dragon Queen. Both Jon and Sansa fear what she wants of him. One of the many ways I've envisioned these two crazy kids getting together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all that you mean to me

She loved him so much it physically pained her. Her heart, so battered to pieces already, ached. 

Sansa just wanted it to stop. Once, she had believed in a love like this. Had even wanted a love like this (though in her fantasies she had been the object of that love, not the one actually feeling it). Then she hadn’t believed in love at all, not after Joffrey and Littlefinger. By the time she’d been wed to Ramsay she had all but given up entirely on love, but had still held out some shred, some small shred of hope…

She still wasn’t sure who had been worse out of the three. But then, it didn’t really need to be a contest. They were all three terrible in their own right. All of them deserved to die again and again and again. 

So, yes, her heart had been crushed beyond repair. She’d turned to steel and shut out all those fantasies and dreams and yearnings. They were for little girls. Stupid little girls. She wasn’t stupid any longer. She was practical. Methodical. Thoughtful. Always a few steps ahead. She watched and observed and made decisions based on what others told her even when they didn’t know they were telling her anything. Her sister had told her she was cold. From Arya, that was perhaps a compliment. 

These things she’d become – they kept her safe. They kept her alive. 

But then _he’d_ come along and ruined everything. 

Jon Snow. No, Targaryen now. She’d always think of him as Jon Snow though; she’d known him longer as that than Targaryen. 

At first, when they’d reunited at Castle Black, he’d just been her brother. The half-brother she didn’t know so well once. Then he was her sanctuary. Then her hero, a Stark, her king, cousin, and then…

Tears spilled from her eyes as she sat before the fire that blazed in her room. She sat alone, she was always alone when Jon was not here, and she ached. And yearned. And rubbed at her chest, right over her heart, as though that could ease the pain she felt. 

She wondered if Sam had anything in his collection of salves, potions, and tonics that could cure her broken heart. If he did, she’d like something to take it all away, to make her think of Jon as just Jon, her brother, half-brother, King, and cousin. 

Not the man she had fallen in love with. Not the man that had snuck in somehow, under her walls and her brittle heart that she kept locked away, and burrowed under her skin and right into her heart. 

Arya knew. Arya knew a lot these days and, Sansa suspected, that meant Bran knew too. Bran had probably known before all of them. 

The day Jon left for Kings Landing to see the Dragon Queen she remembered Arya looking at them so angrily. Bran, thoughtfully. 

Jon didn’t say it, but Sansa knew what the Daenerys wanted. 

She wanted Jon. 

And, Sansa suspected, he wanted her too. 

So, in the courtyard when he’d been preparing to leave, Sansa didn’t throw her arms around him as she’d wanted to. She didn’t cry; didn’t beg him to stay. She was the composted Lady of Winterfell. Instead, she questioned him on what he’d packed, if he remembered everything he would need. 

Finally, he’d stopped her by gripping her hands in his and looking at her pointedly. “I’m coming back, Sansa. I promise you that.”

“Of course you are,” she’d said. But she didn’t believe him, and he knew it. 

Arya had stormed into the castle then, and Bran had been wheeled away. 

Here she was then. Alone and missing Jon, her constant companion in the evenings and even during the day with the myriad duties they had together. 

She tried not to think of Jon writhing atop Daenerys, locked in a passionate embrace, him moving inside her. Chanting her name. Naming her his Queen and his Sovereign and his wife. 

This, Sansa wasn’t sure, she could survive. 

xxxxxxx

Jon stormed past the Winterfell gates and smiled broadly when he saw Arya and Bran waiting for him. Arya was smiling now, and so was Bran. 

And Sansa was….

Nowhere to be found. 

His smile dropped a fraction. Where was she? 

He’d rushed home for her. It was her he’d sat up in bed at night in Kings Landing and longed for until he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. It was for her he’d denied his aunt’s offer of marriage for and came up with an alternative suggestion instead. 

It was for her he’d had a cloak made especially for. 

It was her he wanted, needed, loved, and desired to the brink of madness.

And she was not there to greet him after she’d been so distraught when he’d left? He knew she’d feared him leaving and knew what his leaving for Kings Landing had meant. He had wanted to tell her she had nothing to fear for he didn’t want the Dragon Queen. 

 

He just had to sort it all out with Daenerys first, and with Dany being at times mercurial, he hadn’t wanted to give Sansa hope if Dany dashed them all to hell. 

He’d wanted to tell Sansa so badly, so many fucking times he’d wanted to tell her that he wanted her. 

She had not just been the sister returned to him first, but his reason for living. She’d given him a purpose; a reason to fight again – even if it had been the last thing he wanted to do. She’d been his sister, his sanctuary, his Lady of Winterfell, his counsel and guide, his cousin and then…

Then more. Infinitely more. 

Not a day went by (at least before the battle of the White Walkers, and then with this recent trip) that he didn’t see Sansa. If he didn’t see her during daylight, then he made sure to be with her at nightfall. He had the sneaking suspicion that if he didn’t see her, his sleep would be troubled and restless. 

Perhaps silly. Definitely romantic. Arya would be disgusted with him for it, but Jon found he didn’t care so much. Sansa had become so dear to him that he was certain they breathed together, that their hearts beat together as one, that without her, he would cease to be. 

“Where is your sister?” Jon asked as he came to a stop on his horse and climbed down. He looked about the courtyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of her somewhere. 

“Godswood,” Arya said. She sighed and looked at him. “Is it all sorted out then?”

“How do you mean?” he asked. 

“Are you going to marry Sansa now?”

Of course she knew. Why was he surprised? He smiled. “If she’ll have me.”

“For the love of all the gods, go find her now,” Arya said with a roll of her eyes. “I can’t take the moping any longer. She’s gotten as bad as you.”

She left then, wheeling Bran away, and Jon grabbed the cloak he’d had made for Sansa before heading off to the Godswood in search of her. 

xxxxxxxx

Sansa knew he was there with her even before he announced himself. She hadn’t so much as heard Jon enter the Godswood as felt him. 

She stood from her spot under the Weirwood tree and plastered a fake happy smile on her face. “Congratulations, Your Grace. You’ll forgive me if I do not bend my knee as the Earth is quite sodden—”

“I’m not a king, Sansa.”

She blinked at him. “You’re not?”

“I can’t marry her.”

“Should I fear you’ve a bounty on your head now, Jon?”

“No bounty. We parted amicably. It seems Dany has a soft spot for true love.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Jon came forward, extending the cloak he had draped over his arm towards her. “I had this made for you. Look at the blue in it.”

She took the cloak gingerly and draped it over her arm, caressing the heavy woolen fabric even with her gloves on. “It is a beautiful color.”

“It reminded me of your eyes.”

She looked up at him in surprise. 

He moved even closer until they were but mere inches apart. “I thought of nothing but you,” he whispered. “I _want_ nothing but you.”

She inhaled sharply. “Jon—”

“I wanted to tell you before I left that I wasn’t going to marry her, that I couldn’t. But she’s a Queen and I can’t – she has the power to make it be so—”

Sansa lay her fingers gently across his mouth. “I know.”

He took her hand and gripped it. “But it’s you, Sansa. You that I want. You that I love. I love you so much I’m certain we’ll take our last breath together.”

“Jon, don’t talk about such things,” she scolded softly. 

Jon grabbed the cloak that hung between them on her arm and held it up. “This is your wedding cloak. I’m going to marry you, and I’m going to drape it over you. Do you understand me? We are going to be the Lord and Lady of Winterfell. We are going to build a family together. We are not going to part again. Do you agree to all that?”

Tears of happiness and relief dropped from Sansa’s eyes as she smiled up at him, a big soggy as it was. “Yes."

With a broad smile, Jon dropped the cloak in the snow and gathered her in his arms. He bent his head and kissed her tentatively at first, tasting, testing…and then she kissed him back and the kiss deepened and exploded into something that felt like years in the making. 

And that was how Arya, Bran, Brienne, and Tormund found them when they entered the Godswood, intent on seeing a wedding.


End file.
